


you make me feel like i'm floating off the ground

by gearsystem



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode: s01e14-15 Juno Steel and the Train from Nowhere, Insecurity, Other, POV First Person, Pining, Sharing a Bed, They're just really soft, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:15:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26386255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gearsystem/pseuds/gearsystem
Summary: A gentle take on what happened after the lights went off in Duke and Dahlia Rose's Oasis Casino suite.
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 8
Kudos: 70





	you make me feel like i'm floating off the ground

**Author's Note:**

> beta'd by my lovely husband <3

To say I hadn’t done it on purpose would be a lie. 

And, while much of my profession involves elaborate ruses and misdirections, I do not lie out of some morbid enjoyment. I take no pleasure out of pretending that my choice to call ourselves Duke and Dahlia Rose was just coincidence. Coincidence, in my line of work, is close to nonexistent. To assume that anything happens by accident is to put the power in your mark, in the universe, in a higher power. None of which are things I have interest in trusting. 

I do, however, seem to have an interest in trusting Juno Steel. Enough so that, despite his outwardly aggressive demeanour, I feel comfortable with the idea of him—or, perhaps, of Dahlia Rose—sharing a bed with me in our suite at the Oasis Resort. 

My name, at the moment, is Duke Rose. Though, it has, in times previous to this, been other titles. Those prior identities are getting more and more difficult to remove myself from as I let myself get close to this brash private detective.

Feeling comfortable with sharing quarters with him in the planning stage did nothing to prepare me for the unpredictable emotions I’m experiencing now. The detective seems to be capable of providing me with certain reactions that betray my calculated approach from the very start. A negotiation over Rangian Street Poker with an elder in my own field should have been simple enough, should have been something with minimal risk when comparing it to the other steps of this job. But, the lady in red beside me had only proven just how little I could control him, predict him.

I wish I could say that it deterred me or made me angry. It didn’t. Which is precisely the reason in which I am now lying in this bed, alone, listening to his anxious murmuring into comms through the door, and attempting to soothe myself down from the hammering feeling in my chest. He may not trust me yet, much to my own frustration, but something flickers in his eyes when he looks at me that ignites the same emotion Rex Glass felt in a certain Hyperion City apartment just two months ago. Despite myself, I have chosen to hold onto that flicker.

How can I let him understand that my trust is real without risking my life, my career, more so than I already have? My confidence in him is so singular in its intensity, so strong and unwavering despite little empirical data to prove it well placed. Yet, it exists all the same. I gave him my true name, and even with the resources of a dutiful hacker secretary and many professional criminal databases at his disposal, he kept my secret. Not only did he keep it, he didn’t use the information to explore a past I did not invite him into. How could I do anything less than trust the man who, against his own strict moral code, decided that I fit within it?

I must be lost within my own musings, as I do not notice the sound of his comms turning off, nor do I notice the swift opening and closing of our suite door until the light from the hall pours in. I freeze, knowing that letting him in on my current state would do little but add to his anxieties. I shut my eyes, even my breath, and wait. 

“Nureyev?” a whisper. It’s gentler than how he’s said it earlier in the day. I do not respond. Instead, I let myself wonder if that gentleness can be something I may see more of in the future for a moment, before I hear the sound of a belt buckle, the rustling of fabric, the  _ clink  _ of metal on metal from the hanger in the closet. Before too long, there is a shift on the large mattress we share, and an exhalation of breath beside me, releasing the weight of the day. This must be it, then, sleep despite all we have left to say to one another. But—

“I wanna trust you.” It’s almost not audible, the words he speaks. A tenderness lines the hushed tones in a way that strikes my heart. “Of course I want to, when you’re so…” A sigh, a doubt. “I just don’t know why you’d trust  _ me _ .”

I cannot see him, my eyes face the far wall in a cloak of false sleep and intense feeling. It makes a deep, intimate part of my chest ache all the way down to my fingertips, a frightening display of emotions I did not know I possessed. 

And I just can’t take it anymore.

I turn to face the detective beside me in a swift motion, enough to startle his form and make yet another gasp fall from his lips. I open my eyes. 

“Jesus, I thought you were asleep!” 

“Who says I wasn’t?” Leave it open ended. Give him an out, if he wants. I’m grateful that he is wearing a shirt, even if it pains me to see wrinkles already begin to form along the dark dress shirt I gave to Dahlia. I cannot see below his waist, which I think may be a blessing. With every thought running through my mind now, I don’t know if I can take that risk of intimacy yet.

“I…” he trails off, just gawking at me like I’ve placed a spotlight on him in darkness. All I can manage to make out in the moonlight is the whites in his bright blue eyes, and the slight indentation of the scar across his nose. I find myself unable to speak, quite the same as him.

Instead, I watch my hand reach out to touch his cheek, and notice its placement only when I feel Juno Steel shudder underneath it. It’s a subtle thing, perhaps without my years of training on how to spot peoples’ tells, I wouldn’t have felt it. 

“Juno…” is all that leaves my lips at first. “Perhaps I can help you understand why I trust you, if you’ll allow me.”

This vulnerability, this emotion radiating through my veins, setting my nerves alight, is palpable. Juno doesn’t meet my eyes, rather he settles for staring at the expanse between us. I would not be surprised if this is all the answer I get. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tears my hand away from his face with fury, and tells me never to speak to him again after this case is done. But some terrifying, hopeful part of my soul tells me that is not what is going to happen next. 

“You make no goddamn sense to me, Nureyev,” he says. It lacks the tenacity of our previous conversations today, the frustrated confusion that’s fueled so much of our shared words. In its place is an exasperated fondness, a shake of his head that leads my fingers away from his cheek and down his jaw, just close to his li—

I pull my hand back from him before I let myself get carried away. I place it, gentle, in the space between us, and look up to his striking eyes again. 

“You perplex me in quite the same way, Juno.”

I notice his hand moving beneath the duvet that covers the both of us just fast enough to prepare myself before his calloused fingers trace my cheek and jaw, much in the same way as my hand did a moment ago. Even though I saw him move, saw him approach, I shiver at his touch. I would call it childish, that I’m behaving like a reckless teenager with a crush, but I don’t quite know what that feels like. Something about lying in the darkness beside this impossible man, this person that has made me rebel against the very rules and restrictions I have placed upon myself for the last two decades; it makes me feel invincible. 

His forefinger ghosts across my bottom lip before he seems to realize what he’s doing. A blink of the eyes, and a tense in his muscles, but I feel a selfish worry wash over me as I feel him retracting from me. I don’t want his touch to vanish just yet. I find my mind moving to a fear of losing the feeling of his hands, his breath, and before I can criticize myself for the irrationality of it, my hand covers his at its place on my jaw. 

Perhaps I hear Juno’s breath catch in his throat at that, or perhaps it’s the winds of a Martian desert. 

“Nureyev, I—“

“Do you need to trust me to kiss me, Juno?”

He doesn’t answer my question, just increases his grip on my face and leans forward to meet our lips, rushed and anticipating in their rendezvous. 

Something in my chest crashes at the way the smallest moan emerges from him before he quiets himself again. His lips are rough from the dry air, and warm with feeling. Something young, romantic, and desperate clutches to him in a way I’ve never felt before. A familiar melody passes through my head at lightning speed, a flare, a wish of a past life fueled by hope and affection. 

I have to bring my body back to a gravitational field after a few seconds. I can’t get carried away, not now. I must be cautious and delicate in my approach to protect the thin layer of trust I can feel form beneath our feet. 

“Juno,” I breathe. The thoughts that flew through my mind flitter away into the corners of my view, but even their shadows afflict me. I know that Juno Steel is special, someone I cannot predict, cannot anticipate despite my many efforts. I see the adventure behind his smile and the pain behind his eyes. I had no idea he would awaken such an ancient feeling within me. 

“Let’s get some sleep,” I murmur. If a kiss from him is enough to undo me in this way, risking more now would be letting myself slip too far, too soon. If this heist falls through, if I let him down, I refuse to mark my failure with something I wish to cherish. 

“Yeah… yeah,” he agrees, but his eyes move away from me. I can’t tell if the expression I find on his face is one of disappointment or of regret.

“Perhaps we can revisit this after we rescue Mars?”

“Yeah, maybe,” he flashes the tiniest glimmer of a smile at me, glancing at my lips, following my words. Our hands leave echoes of touch around one another.

“Goodnight, detective.”

“Goodnight, Nureyev.”

If we curl toward each other in the final adjustments before sleep, we do not address it. The breath of Juno Steel soothes me to sleep, and the thrill of saving the world with him brings me into tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this!!! Please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed, and follow me @beholdingransom on tumblr or @thegearsystem on twitter for more Penumbra antics.


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